


Side-by-side and into battle

by patchsfallenangel



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Mention of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 11:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18570433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchsfallenangel/pseuds/patchsfallenangel
Summary: *CONTAINS SPOILER FOR S08E02* Here, at the end of the world, Arya and Gendry share a tender yet bittersweet moment before their battle with the Night King. A story about friendship, intimacy, and never saying goodbye to family.





	Side-by-side and into battle

Gendry and Arya lay silent, side-by-side and facing one another - the way they did when they were children. The warmth of her body next to his was familiar, but it was different this time. The heat of the forge and the warmth of their furs wrapped around their naked bodies formed a cocoon. When he saw her again a few days before, her eyes were as cold and biting as her homeland, but there had been a warmth in them she looked at him. He had wondered how long it would take her to find him, what he would say to her when he saw her again. All words went out the window at that moment and all he could think was, 'She's alive.'

He always knew that she was. She was a survivor. Hell, she kept him alive more than once. His deepest regret had been not getting to say a proper goodbye. He had that opportunity now. Here, at the end of the world. He reached his hand up to brush a stray piece of hair out of her face, but she shook him off.

"Don't act all romantic, now."

Gendry smiled at her. The spark in her eyes he had loved was returning stronger by the second and all he wanted was to fan the flame. "Of course, milady."

Arya punched him the arm. "Call me that and this won't happen again."

Gendry forced his smile not to waver. It was a game they were playing. Well, Arya was playing. Pretending they would have further trysts in the future. Pretending either of them had a future beyond tomorrow. There were no wars or wights or worries in their little cocoon. Only Gendry and Arry.

Only, she wasn't Arry anymore. It startled him that she was a woman grown now. But then, she was never really a child. Neither of them had been. They'd been forced to grow up way too fast, and now their bodies were finally catching up. He wouldn't deny her her agency by imagining her as the tiny girl she had been. To do so would do her a disservice - and Gendry respected her too much to do that.

Instead, he kept playing her game of pretend. "Won't happen again, ey?" he asked playfully. "Thank the gods, I don't think I have anything more to give!"

"Of course, you are getting quite slow in your old age. Is that grey hair I see?"

Gendry laughed at that. He was not much older than Arya, the same age as her brother Jon, and he was sure he had no grey hair just yet. Still, his bones ached and he was more tired than usual. The war had taken its toll, aging him beyond his years. As it had with Arya.

"I had this friend when I was younger," he said. "She was as wild as a wolf. Sent me grey with worry before I was even ten and eight."

"She sounds brilliant."

Gendry took the opportunity to look more deeply into Arya grey eyes. "She is," he said. "She's the strongest person I know. She made me stronger, too."

Arya rolled her eyes. "You're making this romantic again."

Arya sat up in his tiny bed pressed at the back of the forge a small enclave. Gendry moved with her, reaching out to grab her hand under their thick furs. This wasn't love, he knew. At least, not the type of love that bards wrote songs about. They had a bond that ran deeper than that. "I know what this is. What we are," he said. "I'm just glad I got to spend these last moments with my best friend."

Arya turned her head just like she did when she was younger and trying to shield her emotions from him. "No."

"No?" Gendry asked. He pulled her hand to his chest, coaxing her to look at him. "No what?"

The room was so quiet, all that was heard was the cracking of the forge and two beating hearts. Gendry had never been one for sweet words and tender touch, and Arya was the same. They didn't need that fluff. Still, there was so much he wanted to say to her, to ask her. About where she was and who hurt her. Whether or not she finished all the names on her list. Part of him wanted to keep her there in the forge forever or to lock her in the crypts with the women and children no matter how much she'd hate him for it later. But he knew Arya. She'd fight her way out and join the fight regardless. To defend her home. To defend her family. That's just who she was, and Gendry was damn proud to be fighting beside her.

The silence lingered to the point of pure torture. "I once promised to help you get home," Gendry said softly. "And I will keep that promise until my dying breath. I-"

"Stop!" Arya yelled, still not looking at him. "I don't want our last words to be goodbye."

Gendry tugged on Arya's hand once more and this time she turned her head to face him. Some of her short hair fluttered around her eyes, but he could tell she was looking at him. "Try as you might, you can't say goodbye to family," he said.

"Is that what we are?" Suddenly, she sounded like a child again, begging him to stay with her, to be her family.

"Of course," Gendry said, his words turning to whispers as the tension in the room grew. "Milady."

Arya guffawed and Gendry snaked his hand up her arm to pull her more firmly beside him. "Come here," he said. "For now, we can just be here. We can just be Gendry and Arry."

Arya lay back down beside her bull-headed friend. She turned on her side and faced him and rested her head on her hands - there were no pillows down here in the forge. Gendry mimicked her position.

"I'm no longer that little boy I once was," Arya said, mirroring Gendry's earlier thought. Her tone was light but her eyes were cautious.

Smirking, Gendry's eyes shot to Arya's breasts, one of which could be seen beneath the furs. When he looked back up, he said, "No. You're not."

Arya pushed against his shoulder, the tension between the two slowly dissipating as they resumed their regular banter. "You're ridiculous."

"You did just fuck me senseless. Twice." Gendry enjoyed the way Arya smiled triumphantly.

Arya cocked an eyebrow. "Third time lucky?"

Gendry burst out laughing, his laughs jostling both the bed and, therefore, Arya. They continued like that for a while. Talking. Laughing. Pretending.

They stayed close but kept their distance, never touching except for Arya occasionally punching him in the shoulder, and Gendry tried his best to keep his lingering sadness at bay. He didn't expect to survive the war the Night King brought. He knew he may never see Arya mature further. Yet, even with the threat of the White Walkers creeping closer, Gendry knew Arya would be alright.

She'd once told him that the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. But Gendry knew better than that. She was a survivor. She had been teaching him to be brave and strong since she was ten years old. She had seen and done so many things - if those scars on her back and belly were anything to go by - but she was still here. Now that she had returned to her pack, she would be unstoppable.

After a few moments, they fell into a comfortable silence. They continued to stare into each other's eyes, quiet as the cold, as the war trumpet began to sound. The door of the forge swung open, slamming into the wall, and Gendry heard Ser Davos call out to him. If he saw Arya in Gendry's bed, he never said anything, only taking more weapons from the stack and letting the forge door swing closed as he exited back out into the scathing winter.

Ignoring Ser Davos, Arya tilted her head and kissed Gendry deeply. He closed his eyes, savouring her touch. Too soon, Arya pulled away and pulled on her breeches, then her tunic, and then they helped each other with their armour. Arya strapped her knife to her side and touched her hip absently as if feeling for Needle in its sheath. Gendry leaned over to pick up his Warhammer from its rack and handed Arya the lance he'd made her. It hurt, seeing her strapped for battle - knowing one or both of them would not make it.

They came crashing together for one final kiss and the forge door swung open again. It was quick but just as passionate. Arya mumbled "Let's do this" against Gendry's lips as if wanting him close for a just one second longer. She twirled her lance around her fingers and turned toward the door of the forge, letting Gendry follow her. And follow her he did.


End file.
